


(i want this song) to make your knees buckle and shake

by stardust (lightofthestars)



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Place Setting though, Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Semi-Public Sex, but it's fluffier than it sounds ok!, i'm sorry lmao, uhhh this is literally the "two idiots fucking in the east wing of the museum" meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 00:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12900354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightofthestars/pseuds/stardust
Summary: In which Sonya and Mary remain the biggest dorks with the cheesiest pick-up lines in the entire world. But it works, somehow.





	(i want this song) to make your knees buckle and shake

**Author's Note:**

> Very inspired by some Sonyamary content by @theastronomer over on tumblr. (@CurlyAndQuote here).

Sonya lets out a breath, watching it cloud white in front of her face. As it floats upward and dissipates, she shivers, drawing her jacket tighter around her and leaning closer into Mary’s shoulder. Mary glances over, a fond smile forming on her face. “We can go home, if it’s too cold.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sonya replies, though she looks at Mary with a bit of envy. The other girl is rather more lightly dressed than she is, in just a soft sweater and a medium-length skirt with stockings to match. Her lack of affinity for the cold is not something Mary shares, to Sonya’s eternal chagrin. But on the other hand, Mary makes a great companion for winter walks, that’s for sure. “Seriously. You’re like a personal space heater, I’ll be fine.”

They’ve just had a lovely lunch at Marya’s café, where the food was excellent, the service droll, the atmosphere cozy and inviting as always. Both of them have been rather busy in the past couple of weeks, what with the end of semester coming up and juggling part-time jobs on top of that, so it has been wonderful to be able have some time to themselves, and a fancier meal than some hastily-microwaved pasta in between classes.

Sonya has missed getting to spend the day with Mary — often now they don’t see each other much until late-night dinner after work shifts, when they’re finally both home.

Mary feels the same, of course. Which is why she is perfectly content to indulge in a bit of a leisurely stroll through the winding roads of the town before they actually start heading back.

Something catches Sonya eye as they’re walking across the bridge over the river that cuts straight through the heart of town.

“Hey, Mary, look!” She points at the banner spread across the entrance of the art museum in front and to the left of them, proudly proclaiming the current exhibition. “We should go.”

Mary frowns. She knows that if they head inside, that’ll be the rest of the day gone. “It looks very intriguing, dear... But we should really be getting home. We’ve already spent most of the afternoon out, and finals week is coming up and we need to study…” Both of them have the capability to lose themselves completely in a museum, an exhibit, and could very easily lose track of time. She’s sure of it.

Sonya pouts a little. It’s adorable — if frustratingly so, for Mary. “Aw, come on Masha! It’ll be fun. And I’ve actually been dying to check out this exhibit, I just totally forgot until now. She’s one of my favourite artists.”

“Well…” Mary supposes that they could use the break. Besides, she can't bear to disappoint Sonya, especially not when they’ve hardly had the opportunity to spend some actual quality time together in months. And she has to admit that it _does_ look interesting. She could appreciate interesting art. “Alright.”

Sonya lets out a giggle and gives Mary a quick peck on the cheek, making her girlfriend avert her gaze in embarrassed delight. “Great!”

She’s got a grip on Mary’s arm and pulls her along through the entrance, out of the cold winter air and into the warmth of the museum lobby. “It’ll be great, I promise. We’ll look at some cool art, it’ll inspire me to make some cool art, and maybe you’ll wanna make out with me too, hm?”

The last part is said quickly and blithely under her breath and Mary almost misses it entirely. Once her brain registers what Sonya has said, she almost does a double take. But Sonya isn’t paying attention to her at the moment — she’s engaged in conversation with the woman at the front desk, smiling pleasantly as she pays for their admission. They’re well on their way inside the actual exhibit before Mary can find it in herself to bring it up, discreetly.

“So… what exactly was that, earlier?” she asks quietly.

Sonya’s gaze is fixed on the piece on the wall in front of them. _Drifters,_ is the title. “Oh, you heard me, Masha,” she says, without turning to look at her. A flush is beginning to creep its way up her neck, her cheeks.

“Huh.” This was most unexpected indeed. Mary can’t say she doesn’t like the thought of it, though.

They keep walking, wandering around the first hall, meandering into the next. Mary chooses her next move very, very carefully.

She tries so hard to stay steady, to calm her rapidly-increasing heartbeat, but she still turns red and stutters slightly on the words. “I… I don’t know about that, Sonyushka. They... said not to touch the masterpieces, didn’t they?”

It stops Sonya right in her tracks. Mary has to backtrack slightly because her girlfriend is _not_ moving anymore. Her hand has gone slack in Mary’s. It takes Sonya a moment, and then:

“Oh my fucking God, Mary. You are unbelievable.”

Mary lets out a laugh, a warm buzz of satisfaction unfurling in her chest. She is entirely certain that she’s managed to catch Sonya off-guard, get her way more flustered than she’ll ever admit.

As if she knows what Mary is thinking, Sonya glares at her, rather disgruntled. But there’s no ill will behind it. She takes a breath, a moment to compose herself. After all, two can play at this game.

And in her best attempt at flirting, she says, voice dropping an octave, “Sure, I guess. But, well… _someone’s_ got to pin the artwork to the wall, you know.”

Sonya can’t believe she’s managed to say that with a straight face. The look on Mary’s face is absolutely worth it, though. And so is the way her grip on Sonya’s hand tightens. Oh, lord. The way Mary can shift from shy and awkward to hungry and possessive in a single heartbeat is so,  __unbelievably, _hot_.

It’s far from a busy day at the museum, but there are still more people around than Mary would like for what she’s about to do to Sonya, all the dirty things she _could_ do that are suddenly springing to mind. So she grabs Sonya’s arm and pulls her along, firmly, decisively. This is most certainly a terrible idea, but it's not her fault, Sonya can't just _say_ stuff like that and look so damn smug about it, she's really in for it now.

They make their way through the next few rooms, around the installations. Mary is trying her best to keep a modicum of composure, to lead steadily, to avoid attracting attention. Finally, they stumble across a small side room tucked away in the east wing.

There’s a lone painting hanging on the wall that Sonya recognizes. _Starlight._ She would be mildly concerned that they’ve entered a restricted area, if not for that single piece of artwork.

It’s one of her favourite pieces.

But she’s not really paying attention to the exhibit anymore, not now, not when Mary’s lips are crashing into hers and she’s grabbing Sonya by the collar and pressing their bodies together and oh, _Starlight_ is the last thing on her mind right now.

Hands and mouths are wandering, and in a flash Mary indeed has her pinned against the blank wall, leaving bold red marks all over her throat and collarbones as Sonya's teeth catch on Mary’s earlobe and this would all be so fun and fitting and poetic if not for the fact that Sonya’s so turned on right now she can barely think and _oh God_ Mary is sliding a hand underneath the waistband of Sonya’s neatly-cuffed pants and tugging out her neatly-tucked dress shirt with such a fervor that sends another jolt of heat straight to the pit of her stomach.

Neither of them can really believe the absolute fucking ridiculousness of the situation, but here they are, absurdity and arousal and all.

Suddenly she realizes that her shirt has been unbuttoned and Mary’s breath is hot on her neck. She’s mouthing across her chest, lips warm and teasing, and Sonya shudders, throwing an arm back to brace against the wall. Her leg comes up to curl around Mary’s hip, and now Mary’s got one hand on her ass and one hand down her pants and Sonya is doing her _absolute best_ to stay quiet but Mary is _very good_ at this and when she finally swipes slick fingers across her clit Sonya lets out the _filthiest,_ breathiest moan Mary’s ever heard.

And Mary takes that as a cue to put her weight behind it and leans forward, pressing harder against and into Sonya. She works efficiently, knowing exactly what will push her girlfriend to the edge, what spots are most sensitive, curling her fingers sharply and quickly inside her. Then all of a sudden Sonya’s groaning out Mary’s name as she comes, legs twitching, breath hitching, Mary being the only thing keeping her upright.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, when she finally regains the ability to form coherent words. “Oh my God, Masha.” She can’t stop herself from laughing, ludicrously, as she lays limp in her girlfriend’s arms.

Mary looks, altogether, entirely too pleased with herself.

It takes Sonya a moment, but as soon as she catches her breath and her legs stop shaking she’s on Mary, guiding her backwards until the back of her knees hit the bench behind them. She pushes against her, forcing Mary to sit down hard, and then she follows to straddle her hips. Leaning forward, she kisses and bites and sucks her way down Mary's neck, all the way down to the neckline of her sweater. Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin at the hollow of her throat, Sonya is rewarded with shaky gasps and a quiet moan and she just _revels_ in the way her touch draws the most delightful little noises out of Mary. And then she pulls back. But only so that she can climb out of Mary’s lap, place her hands on Mary’s thighs, and spread them gently.

And then, deliberately, reverently, she shifts to kneel on the floor between Mary’s legs.

And suddenly, Mary’s got her skirt rucked up around her thighs and Sonya’s head between her knees, Sonya is doing the most beautifully lewd things to her with her mouth and Mary’s keening desperately, her fingers are pulling, gripping at Sonya’s hair and —

Out of nowhere, the sound of an annoyed cough stops them both cold.

It wasn’t either of them. That had _definitely_ not been either of them.

They freeze, not even daring to breathe. The moment is teetering on the very edge of being killed.

The beep of a radio activating echoes through the now silent room. There’s a voice, tired and exasperated. “This is Johnson, there are two idiots fucking in the east wing. _Again._ ”

And slowly, Mary brings her eyes up to face the stone-faced security guard standing in the doorway, currently clicking her radio back onto her belt.

And slowly, Sonya sits back on her haunches, very carefully pulling Mary’s skirt back into place. She turns around, tentatively, afraid of what she’s about to see.

The guard is so, so dead-eyed. She looks so utterly _done_ with her day, her job, her entire fucking life.

“You’re not even the first ones this week,” she says, with a strange sort of sad, but vaguely impressed, dismay.

Neither of them can bring themselves to so much as look up from the floor as they’re escorted out, Sonya’s shirt still messily untucked and hurriedly-buttoned wrong, Mary’s sweater unable to hide the faint hickeys forming on her throat. “Please don’t do that again,” the guard mutters, as Sonya fumbles to pull on her jacket and Mary hastily grabs Sonya’s scarf and ties it around her neck. They’re both bright red as the guard holds the side door open and guides them out.

They still can’t look at each other, the entire way home.

And this is probably the most embarrassing that’s ever happened to Sonya in her whole damn life but Mary didn’t get to come then and so _of course_ the first thing Sonya does when they’re through their front door is, well, Mary. She’s got a job to finish.

Even though she’s blushing fiercely the entire time.

Even though that security guard’s look of despair is going to haunt them both for the rest of their days.

**Author's Note:**

> [The meme](http://critical-perspective.tumblr.com/post/157345501922/etherialism-cornputer-assindeto-take-me-to) in question, by the way.
> 
> Kudos/comments appreciated as always! But either way, thanks for reading this ridiculous fic, haha. Hope you enjoyed it regardless.


End file.
